Author's note: Thanks to those of you who notified me about my little…oopsie. Has been fixed.

Chapter Two: Of Change and Hatching Plans

            Van Helsing was momentarily at an utter loss for words. A deep sorrow, deeper than he had ever known, filled him. It had all been for nothing. Turning into the werewolf, the suffering of the Frankenstein monster, the death of his beloved Anna. All of it in vain. He soon recovered himself, but that despair remained, that terrible knowledge of the uselessness of his quest. He dimly thought that he should be feeling irrationally angry at the creature before him, but for some strange reason he could not. He knew he had nothing that would kill the count, but he could at least hurt him a little. Yet, again…he could not.

            Instead he merely cleared his throat and spoke. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead. I killed you." Among others…oh God, Anna, I am sorry.

            Even in the half-light, Van Helsing could clearly see the gentle sadness in Dracula's resultant smile. "Alas, he sent me back."

            "In spite of your failure?" Van Helsing sneered. He hoped his statement had stung the vampire; however, Dracula seemed unperturbed. Gabriel's proverbial shot had missed.

            "He sent me here," said Dracula, "because of my failure."

            Van Helsing's finger tightened further on the trigger, and was surprised to see Dracula grimace. "Tell me why," he hissed, "or I'll give you a couple silver bullets to think about."

            "He sent me back here this time as punishment," said Dracula, sounding defeated. "I was stripped of many of my powers. Though I do not know what can kill me now, I know that werewolves cannot. It seems as though he has made it impossible for me to die, yet he has made it possible for me to feel pain again. He intends for me to suffer. He started early, of course. Lucifer is very punctual." Dracula smiled again, and turned his face a little so Van Helsing could see the horrible wound in his neck, the deep slashes down his cheek.

            "You…"

            "I cannot heal myself any longer," affirmed Dracula. "I must regenerate at a human's rate. The marks of the wolf remain as a reminder of why I am here."

            "What other powers have you lost?" demanded Van Helsing. He was beginning to feel a little better, Dracula's previous reaction to his gun explained.

            "I do not know fully," admitted the vampire, "but I know that I cannot create other vampires. My venom is now useless against your kind. My other form is mostly lost, but I do not know how much remains. Some does." He held up a hand, now bristling with needle-sharp talons. As Van Helsing levelled his gun he quickly sheathed them, laughing apologetically. "I am sorry, Gabriel. Please know that I mean you no harm; I bear you no ill will."

            Van Helsing was stunned, so much so that his gun dropped to his side and hung loosely from his hand. "You what? But I was the one who…"

            "…Twice," agreed Dracula, "and I was in a rage when I was delivered for the second time into the hands of the Devil. And yet, when I was sent here…somehow I lost that anger, the desire for revenge. I…I am starting to believe that you were justified, Gabriel. True, I desired only to bring life to my children, to let them feel the freedom of this world, to taste of pleasure and satisfaction, but at what cost? At the time, I did not care." His handsome face took on the look of a lost child, confused and irreparably lonely. "But now…"

            He could not bring himself to say it, Van Helsing could see plainly. At once, a great understanding came over him. The strange feeling he had felt in the courtyard…It was not the presence of Dracula, though the essence of Dracula was there. The feeling had been that essence, but now missing a very large deal of evil. Could God have touched this creature, however faintly? Or was it merely a result of the Devil's removal of certain powers? Van Helsing could only guess, but either way he found that he believed the vampire's story, every word of it. He holstered his gun and knelt down until he was face to face with his one time enemy.

            "Why here?"

            The vampire considered this. "It was a delicious bit of humour for him, I think, to place me on the steps of the Holy Order. You, of course, were second in the plan. He knew you would cause me suffering, by your hands or by turning me in to your so-called employers. He did not care which."

            Van Helsing felt a plan slowly forming in his mind, and he grinned wickedly. "And if I kept you safe from all of that….how would that please him?"

            "He would be furious, of course," said Dracula. "His entire plan would be for naught." He gave no indication that he thought Van Helsing actually planned to do what he had hinted at in his question, instead seeming quite resigned to a fate of torture and shame.

            All the fight's gone out of him, thought the hunter with awe. How the mighty have fallen…

            The wicked grin widened then, and Van Helsing held out his hand to help the vampire to his feet. Dracula stared at him in wary amazement, and then slowly took it, pulling himself up. He was featherlight; his hands were bloody—for once with his own blood.

            "I think," said Van Helsing, "that it's time to do a little of God's work, what do you say?"

            The vampire only stared at him with those fathomless obsidian eyes. He had never felt more helpless and confused in all the centuries of his existence. So far, his former master's plan was working.

            Van Helsing shook his head in amazement. Whenever he needed Carl, night or day, the good friar was always awake and willing to see his friend. Tonight was no exception, though he seemed rather confused at Van Helsing's sudden return.

            "Why are you back here so soon? Did you catch the…whatever it was?"

            "No, no," said Van Helsing, a little guiltily. "But Carl…I want you to come outside and see something for a minute, all right?"

            "See something? But Van Helsing, it's the middle of the night…"

            "You're awake anyway," said the hunter, waving a hand dismissively. He leaned foreward so no one else could overhear. "Carl… what if I told you that we had a chance to do the unthinkable, the true work of God himself? Something that, if done correctly, could earn you a sure-fire ticket to the pearly gates?"

            "Don't be blasphemous," began Carl, and then stopped, eyeing his friend with a mixture of curiosity and mistrust. "What do you mean, 'the true work of God himself'?"

            "What if I told you," continued Van Helsing, "that we could cheat the Devil himself?"

            Carl paled. "Um… but wouldn't cheating anyone be considered a sin? Even if it is the Devil?"

            "Not if you do it merely by preventing the pain and suffering of another, it isn't."

            "Well…"

            "C'mon, Carl," Van Helsing cajoled. "You're the only one I can trust."

            Carl thought for a moment, and then he smiled. "All right," he said wearily. "I take it this all starts by showing me whatever you want to show me outside."

            "Yes, but first I need you to promise me two things, okay?"

            "Well, it depends on what two things—"

            "Promise me, one, that you will not tell a single soul about this," said Van Helsing. His words were heavy with conviction. "Not even Cardinal Jinette. Promise me."

            Carl sighed. "The things I do for you…okay, fine. I won't tell."

            "Promise."

            "I promise, okay?"

            "Second, you have to promise that you won't freak out."

            Carl jumped. "What? What do you mean, 'freak out'? What the hell are you going to show me, Van Helsing?!"

            "Shhh. Please, just promise me, okay?"

            Carl grunted.

            "Carl…"

            "All right, all right. I won't freak out. I'm really not going to like this, I can tell."

            "Hard to say yet," replied Van Helsing, and grabbed Carl's arm. "Come on—follow me."

            They crept through the quiet building until at last they reached the courtyard, and Van Helsing led his friend to the underhangings, holding tightly to his arm.

            "Get ready," he said, and then turned to the shadows. "You can come out now; there's no one else around but us."

            Carl watched, open mouthed, as the figure stepped out of the shadows. "Oh God," he breathed. "Dracula." Though Van Helsing kept a hand on the friar's arm, he had to admit that so far his friend was keeping his promise about not "freaking out". He only prayed that he would keep the other one.

            The vampire initially had his arms wrapped protectively around himself, but when he saw the friar he quickly adopted his usual, elegant air. "Hello, holy man," he purred.

            "My…my name is Carl," stuttered the friar, and whirled on his friend. "Van Helsing," he hissed.

            Van Helsing quickly explained in hushed tones all that he knew to Carl as the vampire looked on impassively. When he had finished, Carl seemed more at ease; if Van Helsing trusted that everything he said and knew was true, then Carl might as well do the same. After all, the hunter had never been wrong in his intuitions before. He hoped that, in this case, there was not a first time for everything.

            The vampire's ghastly wounds had not gone unnoticed by the friar, who resisted the urge to offer him help. Not yet, at any rate. After a moment Dracula caught him looking, but before Carl could look away the vampire's mouth curved into a genuine smile. A little shocked, Carl found himself smiling back, and thought that this might be the time to ask the creature—no, that was rude—to ask Dracula a few questions of his own. As Van Helsing urged them both away from the underhangings and began to walk toward the city with his companions in tow, Carl turned to the vampire.

"So, why did the Devil send you  back here?" he asked timidly.

Dracula smiled at him again, though this time it never touched his dark eyes. "He was disgusted with my failure, so much so that he no longer thought me worthy to stand beside him in the kingdom of Hell. He denied me Purgatory, for neither he nor God thought me deserving of a chance to atone. And, of course, I will never be welcome in Heaven… After that, there was nowhere else for the Devil to send me but here."

Carl blanched slightly. "That must be…awful."

Dracula laughed. "Of course the idea of being denied a place in Heaven must be a horrible thought to a monk. I imagine it would seem worse to a holy man of your standing."

"Actually, I…I'm a friar," stuttered Carl, and instantly regretted correcting the count.

Dracula stared at him for a moment, and then simply laughed, swiping a lock of hair from his eyes. "Of course, my mistake." He turned to Van Helsing. "I like this one, Gabriel. He has…" He struggled for the words. "…much life in him."

"That he does," muttered Van Helsing, and was there a tiny smile on his lips?

"So," said Carl, walking a few steps behind Dracula and Van Helsing. The night was rapidly running out, and the air was at its most chill. The square that led to Van Helsing's flat was silent and empty save for the three shrouded figures; even the rats had gone to sleep for the night. "You can't do all the things you could do before?" From the expression on his face it was obvious that the friar was hoping otherwise.

"No," replied the count, and pretended not to hear Carl's loud, relieved exhalation. He smiled despite himself. "Not all. The Devil sent me here as punishment, not for conquest. Many of my powers are lost. For instance, I can no longer regenerate wounds, as you can see. I must bear their pain and their slow healing. I cannot generate other vampires; he has condemned me…" The words were hard to say, but eventually he found the strength. "…to be the only one of my kind on this earth." Dracula fell silent for a moment, a moment which seemed to Carl to be one of the saddest ones in his life. Then he continued. "There are other powers I have lost, I am sure, but I have not found them out yet."

"That must be rough, I guess. But…can you still turn into that…that creature?"

"Not fully," Dracula answered dismissively.

Carl stopped. "What do you mean, 'not fully'?" He was expecting Dracula to answer him in the same cordial fashion as he had been doing all night. He did not expect him to whirl around, eyes glowing yellow and open mouth bristling with needle-like teeth. Long talons had sprouted from his hands and a horrible hissing screech escaped him. Wings burst from his back. Nevertheless, he still greatly resembled his "human" form; gone were the abundant, powerful muscles, the aerodynamic shape, the batlike body. Yet Carl was terrified nonetheless, and looked quickly to Van Helsing, expecting to see him with his gun trained on the vampire. But instead the tall man stood motionless, watching them both with an odd sort of curiosity. He briefly wondered if he should stop expecting things of people.

It was bare seconds before Dracula returned to his slightly less threatening countenance and stood, studying him also. Carl stared at him a moment, and then whirled on Van Helsing.

"What the bloody hell were you doing, standing there with your thumb up your ass, Van Helsing?!" he demanded, thrusting a finger at the vampire beside him. "He could have killed me just then!"

The freak-out begins, thought Van Helsing, bemused.

"I thought monks were not supposed to swear," Dracula mused aloud.

Carl whirled on him, eyes blazing. "I told you, I'm a just a friar!"

Dracula shrugged carelessly. "So I forgot."

Van Helsing stepped between them then, placing a hand on Carl's twitching shoulder. "You've grown braver, Carl. You didn't run from him; you didn't even step back. That's what I was watching you for. And you only freaked out a little," he added, and there was a glint of humour in his eye.

"But…" Carl faltered, half pleased, half angry. The fight was rapidly going out of him. "But I could have been killed."

"He wouldn't have killed you, Carl," Van Helsing said lowly, gently. The hand on his shoulder squeezed reassuringly and his voice dropped to a whisper. "He's not like that anymore; all the fight seems to have been taken out of him, in a manner. I expect he only kills people to eat, and if you haven't quite noticed, he doesn't really seem to be in the proper shape to hurt anything. You were in no danger."

"How can you tell? That he's so gentle now, I mean," returned Carl in a whisper.

"I'll tell you later," said Van Helsing, smiling companionably at him, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Until then, let's keep going. The sun will be up soon."

At the mention of this, Dracula looked around nervously. "Gabriel, where are we going?"

"My place," said Van Helsing in a supplicating voice. "Don't worry. We're almost there."

Dracula nodded, looking uneasily at the sky. Dark strands of hair still framed his handsome face, shielding his eyes, but Van Helsing knew what he was looking at.

"Can you be killed by sunlight?"

Dracula turned to him, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "No," he said, after a long beat of silence. "But it does worse."

"Worse?" asked Carl, who in a fit of curiosity had forgiven the count. For now. "What could be worse than burning up in the sun?"

"I was asked if I could be killed by the sun, not if the sun could 'burn me up', as you say," replied Dracula slowly. "For it will do just that, but I will not die. Do you understand?"

Both men nodded their understanding. Carl felt a little sick at the thought of being a charred, oozing husk and being unable to call upon death as a release. He wondered if Van Helsing, who looked utterly unfazed, had even bothered to think about that, and in the end decided that he probably had, if briefly. He often envied his friend for his ability to be so objective, something Carl had never been able to achieve. This was also a fine example of just how vindictive and cruel the Devil could be. He felt better about his promise, then.

They reached Van Helsing's modest flat a short time later, just as the eastern sky was beginning to bloom a gentle violet. As Carl closed the door behind them and locked it, as was Van Helsing's unwavering tradition, Dracula strode into the centre of the room, eyeing his surroundings critically. Van Helsing threw his long coat onto the coat rack and approached the vampire.

"It's nothing fancy like you're used to," he began, but Dracula held up an elegant hand, a laugh on his lips.

"And you tell that to one who is used to sleeping in a coffin," he said with black humour. Van Helsing grinned back at him. It felt good.

"Remember," he said, "I was at the Masquerade Ball. You know, your 'summer palace'?"

"Oh that," Dracula said, waving his hand dismissively. He appraised his surrounding again and let out a sigh. "It's not so bad, Gabriel. Though you could use thicker curtains…"

"The two back rooms have velvet curtains," said Van Helsing. " And there are shutters on the windows. You'll be safest from the sun in there."

Dracula appeared satisfied, and turned to Carl, who had stood beside the door since they entered. "You, friar—do you live here as well?"

Carl placed a hand on the doorknob. "Actually, I live in the Friary at the Vatican. Speaking of which, I should be going. It isn't well looked upon to be out at all hours of the night."

Both men caught Dracula's wince. Carl looked at him, confused. "What's the matter?"

            "We'll have to…take some precautions to ensure you don't get found out by the Holy Order or any members of the Vatican. Unless, of course, you don't behave yourself," said Van Helsing quietly.

Dracula laughed nervously. "It appears that I am at your mercy yet again, Gabriel."

"And don't forget it," said Van Helsing, but his voice was not as hard as his words.